Page 4 of Shardless

“And you have enough in reserve?”

A pause. Barely a heartbeat of hesitation before she said, softly, “No. Not unless I give her my anima.”

Esmund crossed the short expanse of the room and stood over her, watching her work. “You’ll die if you do that.”

Breena stopped long enough to look up at the man who had given up his entire life to escape with her to this little island on the outer edge of nowhere. Over a year ago, he had left his own family behind to defend hers.

“Look around,” she said tearfully. “Those monsters don’t care who they kill. We’reallgoing to die if we don’t do something.” Her face crumpled as she turned back, the crimson runes becoming sloppier and less evenly spaced as she failed to control the tremble in her hands. Cori’s eyes started to droop as more and more of her aether—more of her essence—was sealed away inside the runes that now crawled up her arm like blood-drenched ivy.

Esmund stood by, silent, his arms hanging limply by his sides.

Breena worked quickly and quietly, pushing down the fear and doubt, and soon—too soon—the final enchantment was complete.

Placing her quill to the side, she laid both hands on the mattress and closed her eyes. Her breath came in gasped stutters, and her heart beat erratically in her chest. The color was already draining from her cheeks. She had completely depleted her anima casting this enchantment—tapped into the magic of her soul.

She didn’t have very long left.

Esmund knelt beside her. Removing his final water crystal, he waved it over the complex mass of spells that were now etched into Cori’s skin. The glamour slowly crept across the child’s arm, hiding away the glowing crimson markings behind awave of concealment magic.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked. “It’s not too late to undo the spells. Please, little sister, there are so many things that could go wrong.”

“That was the Sanctorum outside,” Breena said sadly. “Even if we survived the fire, they’ve already condemned the town. They plan to kill everyone. Including us.”

Esmund hung his head, recognizing the truth in her words.

Shaking her daughter, Breena smiled sadly as Cori’s eyes slowly fluttered open. She looked dazed, as if she was half-dreaming already. “Cori, you need to listen to me. Very soon, you’re not going to remember this. You’re going to go to sleep, and when you wake up, you’ll have a new life.”

Kneeling, Esmund gingerly handed his sister a polished mahogany box, steadying her hands as she felt for the clasp. The lid came away easily, revealing a small tear-shaped bauble resting upon a bed of crushed azure velvet. They both shared a look before Breena threaded the simple rose-colored crystal onto a piece of string and tied it around Cori’s neck.

“The person who gave me this,” Breena whispered, trailing her fingers across Cori’s cheek, “said that as long as you have this with you, someone would always come to find you. Never take it off—understand?”

The girl nodded weakly, but her eyes were already drooping. She fought valiantly, her hand grasping at her mother’s sleeve, but she couldn’t overcome the fatigue that claimed her as the remaining aether in her blood burned away. Tears flowed freely from Breena’s eyes as she looked atthe face of her child for the last time. “I love you. One day, I hope you remember that.”

Esmund tucked the blanket around the girl. “Have you given her a new name?”

“Yes,” Breena said, refusing to look away from her daughter’s face. She caressed the child’s delicate features, committing them to memory. “Atlas should find it amusing.”

Esmund watched the scene quietly, his face falling as Breena stroked the child’s flaxen hair. Moving to stand, he said, “The dousing spells are strong enough to protect her from the fires, but I still need to fortify the concealment spell on the door from the outside. I’ll come back if I can, but—”

“I know.” The Sanctorum was already here, already beating down their door. They were working on borrowed time.

Breena could barely hold her head up as she tried to turn to face him. “Take me with you, Essie.”

“Breena, that’s not necessary. Stay here. Spend your last moments with your child.”

“No. If you don’t make it back, and I’m found down here with her, it will just raise suspicions. I won’t take that risk.”

Her entire body trembled as she struggled to rise, and when her legs gave way, Esmund caught her, slinging an arm underneath her knees as he lifted her. “Take me upstairs, brother. Let me face our attackers. Let them look me in the eye as they burn my bones. Let my spirit rise to the heavens on a cloud of smoke and ash. I can’t think of a more fitting burial.”

Her strength was fading, but instead of pain, she just felt a cold numbness creeping in asEsmund carried her up the stairs.

The door to the cellar snicked shut, and she knew she wouldn’t live to see it open.

“Do you think she’ll remember me?” Breena asked as Esmund set her down at the same table and chairs where the three of them had eaten a peaceful dinner just hours before. If she concentrated, she could still smell the faint aroma of burned stew and fresh bread lingering on the air.

“I know the spell… but do you think it’s possible?” Her body went limp, and her eyes were already starting to flutter closed as death drew nearer.

Esmund laid her head down gently upon the table, folding her hands underneath her cheek as if in sleep.

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